


dawn arisen

by barbariccia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (spoilers relating to names only and minor characterisation from Ere Our Curtain Falls only), Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, Gay Sex, M/M, Male Azem, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Semi-Public Sex, is it unfair to call Azem a harlot if he takes his mask off? i'm doing it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbariccia/pseuds/barbariccia
Summary: “Gentlemen,” Emet-Selch says loudly, “Could we clear our minds of filth and get started with the day?”This is, admittedly, not one of hisbettersuggestions.
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Kudos: 53





	dawn arisen

**Author's Note:**

> Azem does not reflect my personal wol and is instead meant to be a representation of Midlander as something of a "default".

“... And at the societal level?”

Beneath his mask, Emet-Selch’s brow is deeply furrowed. Most graciously, Halmarut, the Face of Environments, turns their face away from him to afford him time to think not of the answer, but the best way to word it. There is, after all, nothing ruder than watching someone craft their response in real time. This isn’t the Hell of Rhetoric, where such rudeness is brushed aside in the face of a good debate.

“Well,” he starts, “Naturally there will be some upheaval as the roads and guilds are recreated, so we’ll need to adjust for that. Of course, this isn’t something we can avoid - the most Esteemed Pashtarot agrees with me on that.”

“Of course.”

Emet-Selch pauses to find the right words before carrying on. “I believe minimal disruption can be achieved, however. The Most Honourable Lahabrea has made mention previously of a Concept he was working on where two persons at a minimum could communicate without the necessity of being in person to do so. Provided it works as intended and introduced ahead of time with adequate instruction, I am certain life will continue as it always has done.”

Halmarut hums almost musically, and together they turn their faces toward the great windows that look out upon the city. “And those unable to evacuate their homes? One cannot imagine they will be best pleased at being confined inside for an indeterminate amount of time. If we say _five moons_ and take but a day longer, I can only imagine the complaints that will find their way to us.”

Not even the view of Amaurot sparkling against the night sky is enough to stop Emet-Selch’s shoulders from slumping. “I have al _ready_ received complaints,” he admits, and Halmarut titters sympathetically. “I’ve submitted a proposal to our emissary to waive taxation on those affected for the duration, but whether he _agrees_ is a different matter altogether. I await his learned response as I work on another solution, just in case.”

“No doubt he sits at home even now weighing up the options.”

“No doubt,” Emet-Selch echoes, “Though we can only pray Elidibus does as requested and _rests_ for once in his life. Now - was there anything else you cared to discuss, my friend? I’ve a mind to follow his example for a turn of the sun myself.”

Halmarut must be as tired as he is, and yet their smile is no less grand for it. It will be a relief to see this project through to the very end, for all thirteen of them - Azem, the lucky Face, has had no hand in the matter by virtue of being absent more often than not - and so too for the city itself.

“Nothing more, Hades,” they say, and stand. Emet-Selch stands with him, and one-handed, turns his head that he might exchange his red mask for the white, unwatched.With it in place, he might be any man finishing up his business at the Capitol. “Safe travels home.”

* * *

As is his wont, he gets distracted. A building here grabs his attention; a lamp there is cause for consideration; the paving below his feet is worthy of inspection. It does not take long for him to lose track of time. The only indication of the world changing around him is the stars above stretching languidly into different positions, and the wisps of souls going hither and thither that he forces himself not to pay attention to. Pretty as the colours might be, it isn’t his place to watch them right now.

His feet have brought him not to the Meheran district, where his apartment is, but the Apasan, and as he tries to catch his bearings, a voice grabs his attention.

“Out late, aren’t you?”

Hades bristles. It is late, but it’s no crime to simply walk the streets. He knows plenty of people who prefer the blessed night skies to the blinding light of day. “It is only late if one follows the diurnal,” he replies, tone clipped. “‘Tis early for those who have awoken only recently.”

The stranger laughs. “Such an impressive attitude. Come, Hades, are you that tired you don’t recognise me? I’d thought to avoid chastisement, this time.”

One heartbeat, and another, and beneath his own mask Hades scowls as he concentrates on his new companion’s swirl of aether. It is, to his reluctant delight, cerulean blue.

“Hyperion,” he sighs. “Why are you skulking the streets so late?”

“A _ha_ , so it _is_ late,” his friend grins, and puts his hands up right away, palms open and empty. “I went to your house, but you weren’t home, so I figured if I walked back to the Capitol, I might run into you. Got sidetracked following a cat, though. You’ve been working all day?”

Hades does not want to entertain the idea of a grown man following an escaped Concept around the city just to coo at it, as he knows he’ll have done. _Cats_. Cute, but a menace: they’d proven that easily enough, with the initial Idea jumping out of reach and disappearing into the streets of Amaurot the day of its Conceptualisation.

“... My first break in ten years,” Hades admits instead. “The project we were discussing before you left has yet to be put into action; we’re still finalising the details.” Hyperion has come to stand beside him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s more a comfort than he’d say aloud. “I’d hoped we’d have at least made a start before you returned, but…”

His friend smiles in sympathy. “Poor old Hades, tired and overworked. Whatever shall we do with him?”

“Call me old again and I’ll submit your resignation myself.” When Hyperion laughs, the hand on his shoulder comes to rest against the small of his back instead. “... You said you needed to talk to me?”

“Not in so many words. You make it sound a crime to miss one’s friends!”

“Well, if you _will_ bluster forth overeager more often than not…”

Hyperion laughs again. It is, Hades thinks privately, a wonderful sound: rich, and settles in the stomach comfortably, like it was meant to reside there.

“ _Now_ you’re making me sound like a pup. I only got back earlier today - I’ve spent most of the day sleeping, in truth, so it’s late for you and early for me, even if this energy is something of a second wind. But,” and Hyperion, ever-chatty, almost seems to fumble his words a little as he makes his way slowly toward the point, “It was worth it. I wanted to be fresh enough to receive you properly.”

“To- what? To receive me? May I remind you, you said not moments ago _you_ went to _my_ house and were unable to be received?”

Despite the mask, Hades knows his dear friend well enough. His brows will be turned upward, almost pleading. Petulant, one might say, if they were feeling meanspirited. “Am I not allowed to miss my closest friend? Must you bring me up on the words I use every time we speak?”

Unable to help himself, Hades laughs, and swats gently at his shoulder. Arm-in-arm, they’re standing so close as to be almost scandalous. “Your _closest_ friend? Ah, I shall hold that one above Hythlodaeus’ head for years to come.” The joke does nothing to ease the pout on his friend’s face. “Very well - I missed you, too, between the minutiae, when I could spare a handful of seconds to think _of_ you. Is that good enough, or must I prove myself more?”

“Hades.”

It is still something of a surprise when Hyperion removes his mask as though they _aren’t_ in public. Hades has known his friend long enough to come to expect such disinterest in following the rules at all times, though it does nothing to stop the surprise whenever he sees it happen.

His expression is complicated. His eyes, as beautiful as the colour of his soul, look almost apprehensive, and his brows indeed curve toward the heavens. A beggar, is what he is, asking for any and everything the world will care to give him. And with that face, the world gives in more than it should.

“... Just ask,” Hades sighs after a moment of trying to puzzle it out. “I’ve not the mind to puzzle out your particular brand of confusion today.”

The hand at his back is warm. “I said,” Hyperion repeats, tone gently, “I wanted to be fresh enough to receive you properly.”

“... And you _have_ , now,” says Hades, but his friend merely shakes his head.

“Not yet.”

The words hang in the air between them; when Hades says nothing, Hyperion’s hand slips the barest amount lower. He leans a little closer.

“I _missed_ you, Hades,” he murmurs. The words are as his laughter, settling into place where they belong. “I freshened up for you, after travelling so far.”

Ah. He understands. Still, Hades wonders how long he can pretend to be oblivious for, and keeps his expression carefully schooled. “I should very well _hope_ you bathed,” he says, and his friend-

Yes, he breaks, as suspected. He really _is_ pouting now. “I don’t think I missed your mind so much as the rest of you,” Hyperion grumbles, and pulls back. “Come on - let’s get you back home, you terror. We can fool around another time.”

Hades laughs, and glances around. The streets are still deserted, though without a chronometer to hand he’s no way of knowing how long they’ll _remain_ deserted for. When he looks again, Hyperion has affixed his mask as though he wasn’t being grossly identifiable. “I missed you too,” he confesses. “I’ll fall right to sleep if you put me to bed, but I- I missed you too.”

His friend simply watches for long enough that he thinks he has overstepped the line, but then- “What are you saying, Hades? My home is further away than yours. And you’ve been very strict about no _funny business_ at the Capitol before-”

He has, hasn’t he? Far too many faces that know them, there. “Why not here?” he tries.

“In the _street?_ Why, if I didn’t know any better-”

“Oh, nevermind,” Hades grumbles, and looks away. Beneath his mask, his cheeks are hot. “Pretend I said nothing, and let me be ashamed in peace. I’ll-”

“Now why would I do that?”

The warmth of him is back in a heartbeat, all-encompassing as Hyperion embraces him rather than rests a single hand on him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the great Emet-Selch wishes to bless his city with his seed.”

Hades laughs, but incredulously. “Don’t be disgusting,” he says, and _feels_ his friend begin to snicker. “It’s more likely that he takes a vested interest in the… proclivities of Azem. A traveller like you - I’d have thought you’d prefer to be outside when you, ah…”

“Oh, but I _do_ ,” says Hyperion, and lets him go, only to grab at his wrist. “I know there’s no one here, but even for _me_ the street is too exposed. Come along, I know a place-”

* * *

 _A place_ turns out to be the very same green that Hades enjoys laying upon and watching the city - rather, _enjoyed_ , for he has little and less time for the ambience these days. It is dark, and the grass is cold, but as they fall together to kiss and paw at each other he finds he cannot exactly complain about the locale.

The cold itself flees when Hyperion pulls his robes up and grabs at his skin, for his hands aren’t so much warm as they are _scorching_. Eager and excitable, he leads the charge; it’s he who pulls his own robes over his head, he who straddles Hades right there on the green, _he_ who conjures a vial of something slick into existence.

He keeps the mask on, a bizarre inversion of his earlier behaviour, and grins when he presses not one but _two_ fingers inside himself. That’s enough for Hades to know the bastard really _had_ planned this - maybe not down to the last detail, but he hadn’t been lying about freshening up, for when has he ever taken _two_ on the first go?, but he has no cause to complain, not really. Not when it means he gets to watch his friend grasp his cock and sit on it fluidly enough - too quick, Hades would have assumed, but he hears no complaint.

It’s too much at first, hotter than hot, Hyperion more molten than man, and the pull of flesh on flesh isn’t comfortable when he tries to shift beneath him. Hades reaches for the meat of his thighs just to hold on, to hold him in place to afford him a few seconds to _breathe_ , at least.

“S’ok,” Hyperion tells him, and pats at his wrists, at his forearms. “I’ve more.”

“More- more _what?”_

More oil, as it turns out, and Hades isn’t even allowed to pull free to have it poured upon him: no, Hyperion, greedy, places the rim of the vial against his bare skin and lets it drip down, minding not at all the waste. It’s cooler than Hades would like, but once more he doesn’t get a second to so much as shiver, for his friend follows it down, and the noise he makes when he seats himself fully must be the definition one finds when looking up _satisfaction_. Hades digs his nails into his thighs, hearing it.

He laughs, then. “No one’s gonna hear,” his friend says, and goes tight around him as he pulls away, agonisingly slow. “There’s no one here but us. C’mon, Hades, don’t fall asleep on me-”

“ _Bastard_ -”

Hyperion only laughs again, and groans aloud when he seats him once more. Hades’ own hips press up to meet him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, and does it again. “That’s it, _right_ there.”

He shuts up when Hades pries his fingers away from his leg and holds his cock instead, and, falling into rhythm together, they rut not-so quietly against the grass. Already wet at the tip, Hyperion’s cock jumps when he reaches down to push Hades’ mask clean off his face. “You think anyone in Amaurot thinks their precious Azem’s here tonight?” he asks, breathless. “Or their Emet-Selch? You think-”

“I’m _not_ thinking about other people right now,” Hades grunts, and doesn’t even mind the way the night breeze kisses at his bare cheeks. He can’t quite banish the knowing smiles of his colleagues from his mind’s eye, and has to tear his gaze away from the blinding brilliance that is Hyperion just to check that they aren’t, in fact, watching.

“ _Fuck_ ,” growls the man himself, deep in his throat, misunderstanding. “You look heavenly when you lose yourself like that, Hades. Tell me how _good_ I feel.”

* * *

It’s too early to be back at work, but here they are assembled all the same. It feels dreamlike to have all fourteen of them gathered in one room. Only enthusiastic Elidibus appears to be fully awake, it being too early for _normal_ people to want to begin working.

“Welcome home, Azem,” he says by way of getting the day started, smile earnest. “I hope your travels were swift and without incident?”

Azem himself covers his mouth to disguise a yawn before he answers. “Except for getting pelted with hail, and the disagreement my gut had over some new variety of leaves I found in the wild, sure. I’ll have the full report on your desk within the week.”

There’s a murmuring amongst them, accompanied with no small amount of titters. Trust _Azem_ to come home talking about his bowels.

“Charming,” says Lahabrea, “But I’ve a minor grievance to address before we hear the details. I received a complaint,” he continues, looking around at all of them to make sure they’re paying attention, “Very early this morning. An astrológos was charting the skies, and heard a commotion. When they went to investigate,” and here his mouth turns down, displeased, “They discovered a couple engaging in… ah, coitus, shall we say.”

Emet-Selch finds himself suddenly wide awake.

“They didn’t think to ask to join?” Azem asks. Across the table, someone snickers.

“Grow up. It might have been dark, but it was still in _public_. We, as the Convocation, cannot simply-”

It is all too easy to imagine Azem rolling his eyes as he leans back in his chair and finishes Lahabrea’s sentence. “-stand by and let such things happen, yes, yes, we all know the rules. Go on, then. Who were they?”

Silence. Something cold trickles down Emet-Selch’s back.

“... It was too dark for details, the astrológos said,” Lahabrea answers sullenly, and Azem shrugs.

“Well, then, I look forward to the Speaker making a vague announcement to the city that the public are advised to refrain from _fucking in the streets_. Will that be coming today, or do you prefer to hold off?”

More laughter, but Emet-Selch doesn’t hear it, far too relieved that the night had been a great cloak about their shoulders, even as unclad as they had been. Another cup of something steaming and smelling suspiciously like the answer to waking up from this nightmare is put in front of him: dutiful Fandaniel is refilling everyone’s cups, but he nods his head meaningfully when Emet-Selch looks to thank him.

“Elidibus looks like he might well perish.”

He _does_ , poor thing. It’s a wonder he’s not been crushed by the position and bad behaviour of his colleagues both. Nothing like a little scandal to start one’s morning off.

“Gentlemen,” Emet-Selch says, loudly. The argument stops right away, and he could swear he hears Elidibus sigh, relieved. “If that’s everything, could we clear our minds of filth and get started with the day?”

As he settles back into his seat, he catches Azem’s eye-

and the bastard _winks_.

**Author's Note:**

> the Apasan and Meheren districts are not from accounts of Utopia but the days of the Zoroastrian calendar instead; "apas" being the Avestan for "the waters", in keeping with Amaurot's leaning into the use of "Anyder" whenever they can get away with it, and "meher" relating to not only the waters, but to truth and justice (shout out to the Angel of Truth himself). so sayeth wikipedia.


End file.
